


Mammalian Miracles

by WinterSorceress



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Black Romance, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Childbirth, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Minor Violence, Mpreg, Quadrant Confusion, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterSorceress/pseuds/WinterSorceress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Summoner learns why you don’t cross a witch, but his curse may also turn into a blessing, if he can get out of it alive.</p>
<p>Yes, this is Mpreg.</p>
<p>And no, there’s no vivid child birth scene. The concept is that Summoner’s youthful arrogance gets him into a freak situation with his kismesis that sends them on a roller coaster both emotional and relationship-wise, and it’s not long before they’re wondering if Summoner is going to get out of it alive. Even if they do, this is going to end up leading to a doomed timeline.</p>
<p>Care to join them for the ride?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is my first posted story on this site. I'm still learning the ropes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story started off as a gift for a depressed friend of mine. When Homestuck hinted the pre-scratch ancestors, she posted all of her old GHB and Summoner art in one post on tumblr and one of those pictures inspired this. 
> 
> Enjoy.

“Hey, young man, down here!”

An elder’s voice coaxed Rufio to pause midflight and glance down. It took him a few moments to discover who had called him and he was already anxious. He was late to meet his kismesis for a hate date, and there was an unexplained person seeking his attention. It was this kind of thing that tested his youthful patience.

Below was a female troll with long, wild, and paling hair. Her vivid green eyes were locked onto him intently and there was no question the one who had called him had been her. He hesitated to delay his journey before gliding back down to solid ground. Now that he was closer, he could see her strange appearance. She looked ancient, of course, but there seemed something odd about her, an unusual, foreboding aura.

“Uh, yes, miss? May I help you?”

Her gaze brightened with mild awe, a reaction he was used to receiving, and implored to him. “Yes, you may, wriggler. You see I am very tired from a long journey. Do you happen to have time to help an old troll to her destination?”

The Summoner wasn’t sure what to think of this. This was the first someone actually tried to ask him to fly them somewhere, especially when he didn’t even know them. He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow and give her a look. He considered committing to this act of kindness, but…

The young troll lifted his head and turned his attention to the horizon. The moons were dangerously close to vanishing and he swore he could already see the intense light of their aggressive sun struggling to begin its dominance over their sky once again. He didn’t have time for this, for so many reasons.

He could’ve let her down gently and declined politely, but his young temper was one that needed work.

“Lady, do I look like a winged hoofbeast to you? You’ve got legs, use them,” he growled, only able to imagine the mocking he would receive from his kimesis for arriving so late. “I have to jet. My spade is waiting for me.”

Without waiting for an answer or a chance to have second thoughts, he was off with a couple strong flaps of his butterfly-like wings. Then he was heading towards his own destination at a speed that would’ve sent any birds reeling that dared fly too close. The wind whistling in his pointed ears deafened him to any words the elderly troll could’ve spoken to him.

If he had heard, he would’ve had a reason to worry.

“If you’re so eager, wriggler, to pail like a mammal in heat, I’ll happily help you act more like one.”

 

 

“You almost motherfucking missed this over an old woman? I can hardly believe you sometimes, low blood.”

Rufio was almost too dazed to answer. “Hah…I came, didn’t I?” he managed to pant out, face painted brown and beaded with sweat.

The Grand Highblood chuckled gruffly. “In more ways than one, I would motherfucking say,” he jested suggestively, propping his chin up on his large palm.

Breathlessly, the younger troll let out his own laugh and swung at the other playfully. Otherwise, he was too exhausted from their black romping to do much else, except maybe turn over; that was important. Accordingly, he shifted and forced himself onto his stomach to take his weight off his wings; he stretched them, grateful for the relief.

“Seriously, I wouldn’t miss pailing with you for all of Alternia. It’s just too worthwhile. That woman didn’t know what she was asking me to skip,” he murmured, resting his chin on his arms; it was sometimes sad how his horns forced him to change things like how he slept, but, in the end, it was never that bad.

“Have I ever told you you look like a motherfucking bull when sleeping like that?”

Another chuckle left his throat. There were no words to describe how much he adored his kismesis. Being with him made him feel like a juvenile again, a juvenile in either hate or pity. It gave his insides a weird feeling. Wait, that wasn’t the feeling of contentment. He…didn’t know what _that_ was.

“Are you alright, motherfucker? You look pale,” his lover commented with only a touch of worry.

The Summoner heard and felt the indigo blood shift to face him and soon felt his large hand at his face, stroking it and his hair, as his eyes bore into him with concern. He turned his head to gaze at him, not entirely sure what he was talking about. Did he really look sick? He was certain the feeling in his gut was nothing serious.

“…Yes, I…I’m fine. Do I really look pale?”

A small nod was his answer, but then it was changed sheepishly. “Well…only a motherfucking little, but even that is worrisome, brother. Are you sure you didn’t motherfucking catch something from that hag?”

He could’ve easily taken it as lightly as it came, but Rufio hated being worried over like some wriggler, especially by his kismesis; he bore his teeth in a small challenge. “Are you saying I am weak enough for my health to be compromised so easily?”

As expected, his black lover was surprised by his change in demeanor at first before his bewilderment was melted by understanding into one of matching intent. “Are you motherfucking certain you should be challenging me like this? Your precious wings are extremely exposed, low blood, and your horns will surely slow you down from shielding them,” he warned.

However, he didn’t care about smart decisions. He found himself too much in a playful mood to care. He was just aching for another round. And he was pretty sure the Grand Highblood could see that in his eyes, the spark of feistiness and desire for another romp. Besides, as stupid as it sounded, Rufio trusted the subjugglator leader. He may have been the enemy, but he was also _his_ , just like he was as well.

But he wouldn’t get the chance to even move.

“H-hey!”

Before he knew it, the larger troll was on top of him, straddling his backside. His fangs gleamed in the faint sunlight, that struggled its way into the room past the excessive curtains that shielded them from the intense sun, and he felt his heart thud with brief fright, his basic instincts screaming. Then there was a sharp pain in his shoulder as those dangerous fangs sank in and stayed. He leered.

“…Do you mind?”

A mumbling was all he heard and he sighed. “Not with your mouth full.”

The Grand Highblood pulled out gently without any fuss. “You wanted to play…” he justified before licking his chops of the brown blood he had received from the love bite.

He rolled his eyes at his kismesis’s impishness and was rewarded in turn by the other’s lips on his. It startled him but he soon sank into it contently. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before both of them realized the awkwardness of their position. Despite being comfy, he would have to roll back over.

Reluctantly, the rebel leader pulled away from his supposed enemy. “Alright, let me up. This is very uncomfortable.”

As expected, the Grand Highblood indeed complied. However, as soon as the Summoner had settled into a sitting position, his kismesis was upon him, ravishing his mouth. The momentum of it sent them tumbling and they rolled in the blankets, fighting for the kiss dominance of the kiss, growling friskily with hands groping and caressing.

Tangled in his kismesis’s hold, the old witch was far from Rufio’s mind, but her work was brewing.

 

 

Usually, when Rufio stayed the day at his kismesis’s fortress, the Grand Highblood would be the first one of them out and about. Today, however, he was the first to rise, feeling sick to his stomach and even a little dizzy. He tried to get up without disturbing his partner, but that was impossible. The Grand Highblood, like he often did, was settled smugly on top of his chest; affectionate old bleat beast. And it didn’t take much for him to be stirred.

The subjugglator groaned and peeked at him from out of his wild tangle of black hair. “What…What are you doing awake? Are you…trying to steal my job as the earliest riser?” he rumbled with any humor he could manage after just being roused awake.

His humor vanished, however, when the brown blood sat up firmly without jesting back, and he let him up, eyes wide with surprise as he watched him get to his feet off the bed.

“No….I…just…I’m not feeling well.”

“…Motherfucker, maybe you _are_ getting ill, Summi…” 

Despite the pain and discomfort coiling in his stomach, he found it hard to believe. He was as fit as a fiddle and there was almost no way he could become sick so easily.

“Nonsense; I’m sure it’s nothing.”

He proceeded to empty his stomach in the high blood’s ablution block.

 

 

A few weeks had passed since he had encountered the elderly green blood, and she was still far from his mind. However, his mind was becoming increasingly troubled. He was still gaining symptoms pointing to some type of illness, nausea, particularly in the morning, fatigue, weird cravings, stomach pain. It was becoming hard to bear and even his troops were beginning to notice.

It was during a sparring session that the final straw was pulled.

“Captain…are you sure you are not ill? You seem…really out of it lately…” asked the troll he had been training, lowering his sword.

Rufio was too busy catching his breath, sweat dripping down his neck. It was getting difficult to even help train the less experienced of his warriors, and it sucked. And he had no one idea what was wrong with him. He didn’t feel ill, and yet something was seriously wrong with his body. It was like it was waging war against him.

“…I’m…fine. I honestly don’t know what is wrong with me, but it’ll pass.”

“That’s what you said three days ago.”

Frustrated and even a little scared, he gritted his teeth and snarled quietly at the insolent youngsters. They did appear worried, but stepped back slightly. After a moment, they traded glances before fixing their multicolored eyes back on him, in shades of red, to brown, to yellow.

“Maybe it’s not an illness. Summoner, sir, do you remember anything else that may have caused this?”

Becoming slightly irritated, he shook his head firmly. He was beginning to catch his breath and stood up all the way. He sighed deeply with weariness and rubbed the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. He was grateful only a few trolls were in this area of their camp.

“Then what could it be…?”

Then the older troll’s face lit up with what seemed to be a realization. “You didn’t piss off some old hag by any chance? I’ve heard of witches putting spells on trolls like…you…”

Rufio stiffened with offense, unable to help it, “And what is that supposed to mean!” before realizing that is exactly what he meant, his temper. He sighed. “I apologize…Are you saying that woman I refused to give a ride put some…spell on me?”

“You never know,” the older of the warriors reasoned.

This twisted his gut with unease. He should’ve known better than to be so hasty and rude. Respect your elders is a good saying for many reasons.

The brown blood leader gazed at the knowing troll almost imploringly. “Do you have any idea what she could’ve done to me?”

To his dismay, the younger troll shook his head. “No clue, sir. Maybe you should see a doctor. I hear those wretches can do some messed up things to people. Don’t find out too late. We need a leader.”

He could only nod in affirmation. Too many things were suddenly put into perspective for him to say much. How long had he been acting like a juvenile, putting the fate of the low bloods in jeopardy over a potential fling with a dangerous troll? Though, even thinking that felt like an insult to his kismesis and he wondered if he was really something important to him as he was to him.

“Thank you for your advice. It just may do me some good. Tell the others that I may be absent for a few days, maybe a few weeks at most, if this doesn’t end killing me. Do not move from this spot until I return or you receive certain news of my death.”

They saluted him shortly after and left him, murmuring amongst themselves. Though, none of them would realize how close their leader would come to the death he spoke of so lightly.

 

 

This was ridiculous.

The Grand Highblood waited impatiently outside the subjugglators’ resident healer’s chamber. He had his arms crossed with an expression that mirrored them. He could hardly believe that his kismesis had gone and gotten himself cursed by a witch. It was flattering that it had happened because he was in a rush to see him, but this was still motherfucking silly.

And he just had to come to him, or rather his fortress, asking to see their healer. Such nerves some wrigglers had. It was like he assumed he had special high blood privileges because he was in a quadrant with one. 

The indigo blood sighed. Alright, maybe he was right about some things. Rufio did look pretty sick when he arrived and he didn’t hesitate to allow him access to their medical services. The doctor had been surprised by the situation, but knew better than to question his authority and might. That had relieved him more than he would ever admit. His kismesis was one of a kind, feisty, charming, sensual, and he wasn’t about to lose him.

The question still remained what the witch had done to him. That worried him immensely. What if she had done something irreversibly fatal or something that could never be cured? It almost made him want to bite his claws, but he resisted. It wouldn’t do him well to be seen as anxious as he really was.

The subjugglator just wished the doctor would finish already. Sitting outside on a hard bench in a cold hallway was far from comfortable. He knew they had to keep up their intimidating and cold appearance, even through their decorating, but really, a few comfy couches would hurt nobody.

Finally, the doorknob rattled, jolting him from his state of utter boredom. He practically jumped to his boots as the door swung open to usher both Rufio and the highblood physician. Taking one look at their expressions only brought more worry instead of lessening it. They both looked a little bewildered and troubled.

“Rufio…? What is it? What did that motherfucking witch do to you?”

The winged brown blood traded a glance with the doctor before the doctor left the two of them alone. He ducked back inside his chamber and closed the door quietly. The lovers watched him go before Rufio looked up at him instead, looking at a loss for words.

“I…uh…I hardly know how to explain it.”

Eager to hear the answer, the Grand Highblood gripped his shoulders. “Tell me! Did she hurt you? Will you be alright?”

The Summoner barely flinched at his grip and shook his head slightly. He lifted his head again and the indigo blood could see his brown eyes shining with emotions he did not expect. They both intrigued and frightened him.

“I’m pregnant….with your grub.”

…

…

…

“What the fuck does that mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter is better, I promise. This one is a bit old, testing the waters kind of.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Summoner and Grand Highblood experience both the heaven and hell of mammalian reproduction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be traces of growing flushed feelings as the story goes on. That's how my friend prefers this pairing. It's a gift for her after all. I hope you don't mind and will be able to enjoy the story anyway.

Rufio sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wondered if the little abomination inside him could already sense the stupidity of its 'father'. Maybe that was a tad harsh and untrue, but his frustration was growing by the repeated explanations he had to give, in hopes that his kismesis would come to understand their predicament. At the same time, he knew something like this was bound to go over the head of any troll. This was just too strange of a concept for their race.

The sincerely puzzled look on the Grand Highblood's face proved that well enough, and made it hard for the Summoner to remain cross with him. He swore he even detected slight fear in the other's purple eyes. Fear of what, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was fear that he had done something very harmful to his spade without even realizing it. You really could never tell with these crazed highblood buffoons sometimes.

He frowned sympathetically, trying to be understanding in this odd situation. "Do I really have to explain it again? What don't you understand?"

It seemed like he had explained it prior at least twenty times, or at least tried to. This was beyond him as well. But going over it privately with the high blood physician and seeing the evidence with his own eyes had helped. Besides, this happening was taking place in his own body; it was vital to understand or else he could risk harming himself more than the witch had in the first place. 

He just wished he could help his kismesis understand as well. He needed his support and wisdom. And there was a lot more on his mind that he couldn't deal with until this hurdle was cleared.

Sheepishly, the other troll smiled and fidgeted. "I'm sorry. This is just so motherfucking weird. How can you possibly be having a grub? Isn't that the mother grub's job?"

The Summoner sighed. "Apparently mine now too," he remarked. "Look, I've seen it myself. I don't know how she did it, magic, I suppose. But it's there."

"So, you're motherfucking telling me there's a live grub inside of you, growing?"

"That's what I've been _trying_ to get through that thick skull of yours, or maybe just all that hair." Despite how anxious he was, he couldn't resist a small jibe at his black lover. Having a little fun along the way was better than letting the tension stretch on and he knew that this was the worst time for it to occur; the last thing he needed was stress. 

It helped. The Grand Highblood let out a small chuckle and his expression lightened to one of amusement and slight curiosity. His sharp eyes moved from his face down to Rufio's torso, as if trying to detect their unnatural spawn for himself. At once, Rufio's kismesis's senses tingled. He knew that look and became slightly uneasy. The subjugglator was up to something, but, at the moment, he didn't know what to expect. 

“Then you won’t mind if I check for myself…” he murmured, kneeling down before him with an ever present smirk.

Instinctively, the brown blood stiffened, bewildered. “What…What do you mean ‘check’? What are you up to?”

By now, the subjugglator's head was right by his stomach and he looked up at his spade to give him something of an exasperated glance. "I'm not going to motherfucking bite you. There's a time and place for that, wriggler."

Instead, the wild-haired highblood delicately placed a pointed ear to Rufio's abdomen and was still. Above him, the other could hardly resist a light blush at the intimate, almost tender action, listening for any trace of their grub. Even as he scarcely dared to breathe, in fear of complicating matters, a thought came upon him. 

This grub was _theirs_. Never in his life had he encountered such an ordeal. He had always thought he would simply pail a few times, contribute his genetic material to the mother grub's slurry and continue their race, and then continue with his life. He never once thought he would end up bearing a grub himself, with another troll and highblood no less.

Now he wasn't sure whether he wanted to murder that old broad or give her a hug.

The Grand Highblood's free ear appeared to twitch slightly and his expression developed into one of surprise and even wonder.

"What? What is it?"

"I motherfucking hear it. It's tiny, but I hear a motherfucking heartbeat," the indigo blood reported, still listening intently as if he couldn't hear enough. There was the smallest hint of delight hidden in his impish features.

The revelation left the Summoner almost speechless. However, at once, he tried to think of a logical reason to disprove it. While it seemed to be an unusual and even wonderful experience for the two of them, there was fear in the unknown. Again, he was torn. Whether he really could accept and want this, he didn't know yet.

"Are you sure it's not mine you hear, old bleat beast?" 

Quick with excitement, the older troll was back up on his feet, smiling widely at him with his nose to his. "I'm motherfucking certain! What kind of fool do you take me for?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Rufio couldn't resist remarking.

The reaction he received for his attitude was not exactly what he had expected. Instead of a returned remark or even a small blow, his kismesis stole his mouth with startling intensity. He was so used to such an action; he was only briefly stunned before he decided to allow it, threading his fingers into his spade's dark, wild mane he had the impudence to call hair. The hot contact sent small shivers of bliss jumping through his nerves and he knew there was something different now between them. With the promise of the birth of something they created together, their bond felt all the more cemented and special, albeit in the strangest of ways. 

He wasn't sure how long they kissed, but he was sure it wasn't too long and that it certainly wasn't long enough. The rebel leader couldn't complain, however, for his kismesis went straight from their shared affection to teasing the curve of his neck with small pecks. Gray face already tinged with brown, he could hardly hold back a groan.

"So _now_ do you understand our situation?" he managed to pant out.

The Grand Highblood moved up to his ear to give it a playful nibble. "I understood the first time, wriggler. I just wanted to see how many times you could stand to repeat yourself." He then drove his mischief home by slowly running his tongue up the underside of the object of his attention.

Rufio shivered and contemplated ignoring the highblood doctor's advice to abstain from serious courtship while 'pregnant'. Seriously, why did this indigo fuck seem a lot more tempting only after he was advised not to jump his ass? He blamed his youth, youth and hormones; the bastards.

His hesitant restraint must have been communicated, for the other smoothly pulled away with a mischievous smile. "We should probably grab something to eat. You're eating for motherfucking two now," his spade suggested. "I'm motherfucking relieved. When you first walked in, I feared you had motherfucking let yourself go; wasn't looking forward to having a plump moth in my quadrant."

Suddenly, the grub couldn't be here soon enough.

 

He didn't want this to end. How could he? Ever since Rufio had come to his fortress with the news of his curse, he had been permitted by the Grand Highblood and his fellow subjugglators to stay as if their home was his. And the following almost domestic sort of life seemed to bring out a side of his kismesis he had never seen before. This side was different, calm and content, and the brown blood even seemed to glow at times with the beauty of the life cast upon him and the miracle of the situation they had fallen into together. 

Though, of course, this 'situation' wasn't without its difficulties. It wasn't like he could tell the Empress he was taking a self-declared leave from serving her to tend to the very low blood leader he was supposed to be hunting down. He could handle them well enough, however. He was not like most trolls who had absolutely no authority in their ruler's eyes. He would not tell her the truth, but he knew how to get her off his case. And if she sent her officials to come sniffing him out, all he had to do was convince them that leaving was a better choice than having their blood added to his extensive paint collection.

Still, the subjugglator leader knew this was a time of walking on thin ice. Everything was at stake, his reputation, authority, his kismesis's life, health, and endeavor, the life of their unborn grub, and the very future of the low bloods. But, as he walked into his personal chambers, and found Rufio slumbering so soundly with his young, handsome face so dear, he somehow could convince himself this was all worth it.

It was interesting how quickly his priorities shifted. Just yesterday, his main objective was to keep everyone in line, both his fellow subjugglators and any visiting officials, and conduct assassin assignments. Now his biggest concern was protecting his kismesis and their grub-to-be. 

Everything seemed to be rolling along smoothly, despite the change. Summoner remained in fairly good health despite his ordeal and none of Her Imperial Majesty's finned dogs had come sniffing around yet. It was just him and Rufio, and maybe a few of his mirthful brothers and sisters, and that was how he rather liked it at the moment.

It appeared nothing could go wrong.

Gently, the Grand Highblood settled on the edge of his large bed and watched the sleeping brown blood for a few moments more. Then sentiment took over and he couldn't resist the urge to lean over and plant a loving kiss on his lover's forehead. To his slight dismay, the action disturbed him and the other troll was soon stirring from his rest. 

His old heart fluttered when Rufio opened his sleepy brown eyes and smiled at him. He returned the gesture, only to be greeted with an unexpected blow to the face. The hapless pillow that had been thrown at him by his apparently grouchy lover was soft enough, but still stunned, leaving him wide-eyed and oddly unamused even as it tumbled down to the bed with a dull thud. For a moment, he could only stare in bewilderment, as the other troll simply resituated himself contently, obviously not willing to be disturbed at the moment.

The fluffy assault left behind a tense silence, at least to him. That was not the good morning he had expected or appreciated. In fact, it coaxed his temper to boil ever so slightly. Old hatred instinctively reared its head. The low blood dared to insult him in such a manner? This was his bed and his fortress. He could easily cast his winged ass back outside and let him deal with the grub himself. He didn't piss off that witch. 

The Grand Highblood sighed. What was he doing? He had thought his days of allowing himself to be driven to rage so easily were long behind him. The subjugglator wondered once again if it was the strangeness of this situation. He wasn't used to being so caring and light-hearted towards anything; it was an unusually bright set of emotions that also made it easy for him to be shoved back to the dark at the same time. 

In the end, all he really desired right now was to spend time with his kismesis. Seriously, he had slept in long enough. He just hoped he wasn't cross with him for disturbing him. 

Cautiously, he shook the sleeping brown blood’s broad shoulder. “Wake up, Rufio. It’s practically motherfucking midnight. Just because you’re carrying doesn’t motherfucking mean you can be lazy—“

"Fuck off, you indigo fuck! I'm trying to sleep!"

In a breath, the Summoner was up and leering daggers at the subjugglator, shoving him hard on the way up. It was obvious someone had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. Not just that, the Grand Highblood was pretty sure he was acting like a wriggler and that was something he often didn't tolerate.

However, he wasn't above giving him the benefit of the doubt. "Fine, fucking wriggler, sleep all night. I don't motherfucking care," he grumbled as he went to leave the room. 

So much for some pleasant time with his kismesis…

It was easy to forget how much younger he was than him, and that he was an uncouth low blood. Why was he going out of his way to help him again? Sometimes he wondered if he was losing his mind along with the beliefs he once stood for. Nothing was clear anymore for him, not since he fell black for this pathetic winged wriggler.

"Wait!"

The sound of Rufio's yelped command made him stop, startled. He turned quickly in bewilderment, especially since his tone was not something he had expected. It was abruptly full of distress, triggering an instinctive protectiveness that he had yet to come to terms with personally.

He soon found himself with an armful of tearful troll. This shocked him more than anything. Was his kismesis reallycrying? He had never seen even a tear leave those fiery brown eyes or heard so much of a sorrowful sniffle from him.

"Uh, Rufio?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you. Please don't be mad at me. I don't deserve your mercy."

He felt like he had been slapped in the face by a fish, or maybe just another pillow. It left him clueless about what to do. For a few moments, he stared dumbly off into space, trying to ignore the wetness that was slowly seeping through his shirt to kiss the gray skin beneath. Then, he decided to attempt to sort this out and pushed him away with a gentle firmness.

“…Did you hit your motherfucking head or something? You’re acting really motherfucking weird. I hope you realize that, Rufio.”

The Grand Highblood soon regretted pushing the other troll away. Now he could see his teary kicked young bark-beast expression, one that pulled at his cold and ancient heartstrings. Not knowing what else to do, he gingerly planted another kiss on his kismesis's forehead and whispered a few soothing words to calm him.

"Excuse me. What do you think you're doing? I'm fine now. Step off."

Now he was very confused and even a little frightened. He indeed backed off to see that the Summoner's expression was now one that lacked amusement. In fact, he seemed a little irritated. He could only stare after him as he walked past him and out in the throne room.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm getting another craving."

Maybe this pregnancy thing wasn't as fun as he'd thought it would be.

 

It was an odd thing being an important guest of the subjugglators. It was almost like being royalty, especially since he was their leader's kismesis and was carrying his grub on top of that. He wandered where he wanted about their fortress and no one bothered him. All who regarded him regarded him with amusement, yes, and some intrigue, but all who did also knew it would be a downright death wish to harm him.

Was this what it was like to be a high blood? The Summoner tried to tell himself he didn't care. All he was here for was to rest and wait for the abomination inside him to finish developing and then get out. He had a rebellion to lead. He could only imagine what it was like waiting for him, not knowing what to expect or what to think. He was just glad they didn't know the truth.

And what exactly was that truth?

That he had been knocked up by a high blood? That wasn't even possible for a troll. That he had pissed off a witch on his way to meet one of the highest ranking leaders of their enemy and was now carrying his grub after mating with him? He knew it was more scandalous than that. For months, he had put everything they had worked for and were hoping to accomplish in peril because of his juvenile hormones.

And why?

For the thrill of a deadly fling, to swap forbidden affections with an enemy that could easily have turned on him during any of their numerous meetings and snapped his neck? Even their first kiss had been a dance with death for him. His thoughts during that moment weren't of how marvelous it was to kiss the Grand Highblood, there were him thanking whatever gods there were that he was still alive, that the subjugglator's abrupt pounce hadn't been of lethal intent. 

Why had he trusted him with his life so many times? The Grand Highblood and his clan were dangerous trolls, sly and bloodthirsty. Why had the fearsome leader failed to take advantage and do away with him like he could so easily do?

It was then that Rufio remembered. They trusted and respected each other. What was any relationship without those two vital ingredients after all? Who cared if they were practically natural born enemies? They had something special and that was all that mattered.

With that thought in mind, he made his way into the throne room, hand unconsciously resting on the growing bump that protruded from his stomach. This had certainly been the most unholy journey he had ever been on. His back ached like no troll's business and his morning nausea had been far from pleasant to look forward to. Not to mention the little bugger was starting to kick while he slept, sometimes with all six little feet it seemed. And when he grumbled, his kismesis only smiled and fawned over both him and their unborn grub all the more. 

However, at the moment, the brown blood could only survey the throne room and wonder where the 'father' was. He remembered the subjugglator hinting that he intended to go after the witch and arrest her for practicing such types of blasphemous magic, but that had been hours ago. He could only imagine how it was going, though he wouldn't have to for long.

Within minutes of waiting around in boredom, Rufio was startled by an upstart of commotion just on the other side of the front doors. It sounded like his kismesis and his handpicked group of warriors had returned and had returned victorious. It made him uneasy, honestly, and he had to fight the urge to flee from the room. Subjugglators were warriors of rage and it wasn't uncommon for them to slip into a murderous one.

The Summoner willed himself to stay and hoped it was a wise enough choice.

The doors slammed open and the gruff, excited voices of the high bloods immediately began to echo in the spacious room. Instinctively, the low blood stepped backwards, especially seeing the blood lust and delight that burned in their eyes in several shades of dark blue and purple. He was relieved to see that, even though they seemed to have indeed found the one who cursed him, the witch was unharmed if not very frightened.

“Please, high bloods, my lords, do not harm me. I have done nothing to you,” she tried to plead with them. Then she noticed the other troll across the room, him, with a protruding stomach and went pale. “O-oh…You, boy…You are involved with the subjugglators? I d-didn’t know.”

Hesitantly, he dared to begin to approach her, wary of the other trolls, who looked ready to tear into anything that looked too appealing and got too close. "I am. I'm the Grand Highblood's kismesis. I was on my way to visit him when we last met; this grub I'm now carrying thanks to you is his."

“O-oh…oh my…I didn’t….” 

The green blood looked fearfully up at her captors who stared back darkly. He had a bad feeling about what they intended to do with her. He didn't even think they needed a reason to do the elderly troll harm.

"The evidence is motherfucking obvious. Rufio recognizes you as the culprit. I'll enjoy slaughtering you, wretch," the Grand Highblood spoke up, pulling up the arm he had in his grasp and tightening his grip slightly. It was obvious the excitement of the prior hunt had his judgment clouded. 

Weeks ago, Rufio would've let this pass easier than he would ever admit. However, his opinion had changed. This experience may have been taxing and undignified at some points, but it had also taught him to more careful with his actions, and that there were more important things than a good pailing with your quadrant. He would almost say he was grateful.

When the Grand Highblood declared he was going to find and bring back the witch, he had expected her to spend some time in a cell perhaps, or just off with some high blood scolding, but not this. He didn't know why he didn't expect this though. It was in his nature and just because he was the leader's lover wouldn't change that part of him.

Though, it did give him a way to stop him from taking a life needlessly.

"Don't. Grand Highblood, it's alright," he assured with some nervousness, changing his path to draw closer to his kismesis. "I forgive her. Don't hurt her."

Honestly, his heart was jumping in his chest. When his spade's indigo eyes locked on him, he could easily see his true violent nature raging within them. They warned him that he was playing a virtual game of chicken with a dangerous troll. But he was the only one who could free the witch. If she died for his youthful ignorance, than he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

"Wriggler," was the snarled response, deep and nearly primal.

"Yes?" Rufio answered lightly, delivering a sweet, short kiss to his kismesis's painted lips. "Please? It's alright. I'm sorry for making you go after her, Grand Highbaby."

Several of the other subjugglators snickered, their sharp teeth flashing, but this was important, important enough for him to call their leader a pet name he only used when feeling especially frisky. As expected, a purple blush peeked out from the gray skin of the largest troll's cheeks and he seemed to relax with a sort of bliss after receiving his affection.

The Summoner relaxed too and his brown eyes softened. It was such a relief that he had convinced the Grand Highblood to understand and cooperate. He was worried for a minute there.

He had no time to brace himself for the unexpected blow that sent him flying into the back wall of the throne room. The witch's cry was the last thing he heard before darkness overtook his senses.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited conclusion. I apologize for taking so long.
> 
> The troll pregnancy takes a very nasty turn and Summoner's life hangs in the balance.

“Your Grandness, please stop pacing. The low blood will be fine, well, fine enough.”

But the Grand Highblood could hardly stop himself, not when the Summoner had yet to wake up. The young fool should’ve known better than to try to talk sense into him while he was worked up. He knew he had a better chance than anyone to do it and live to tell the tale, but it was still too dangerous of a feat to attempt, especially when carrying. He fretted that he had accidentally harmed their grub too; despite how many times the physician had assured him otherwise.

“Don’t tell me what to motherfucking do. You don’t understand. I could’ve motherfucking killed both my kismesis and our grub with that one burst of capricious rage,” he protested with an anxious growl. He then whipped his wild head back towards the doctor with a warning look. “And don’t you motherfucking call him a low blood. I won’t hear such degrading titles any longer.”

Obedient yet knowing, the high blood doctor bowed his head graciously. “Of course, my lord; I understand,” he replied calmly.

In return, his quiet voice and mood helped relax the subjugglator. With no confrontation or protest to unnerve him, only agreement and respect, he found it easier to settle down. He even discovered within himself enough peace to find his own trace of manners.

“I…Thank you, doctor. You’ve been very helpful throughout these past couple of motherfucking stressful weeks,” the Grand Highblood sighed, wandering over to the Summoner’s bedside.

The rebel leader still seemed far from the waking world, breathing deeply with eyes lightly shut. It was as if he was just asleep, but he remembered all too well what he had discovered when he snapped out of his capricious state. The indigo blood could still see Rufioh’s sprawled form slumped beside his throne, brown life trailing down from the corner of his mouth from the force of the impact. What he did next played through his mind as he tried to assure himself he was a good lover by how he rushed to gather his kismesis’s limp body into his arms and hurried him to the safety of his respitechamber, their respitechamber.

The witch may have been freed and Rufioh still in one piece, but what still haunted him was the uncertainty about whether or not his beloved skydancer would survive this. And yes, he had just mentally called him such a title. It may have been on the red side, but he would call him anything just to make sure he would live to kiss him another day.

Maybe now would be a good time to start considering his hidden feelings towards the brown blood. Since he had found out his kismesis was now carrying their grub, due to the freak situation he had gotten himself into, he began to feel more pity rather than hate. Honestly, he had always felt slight pity for the brown blood, how he fought so hard and shined so bright and yet knew he would always be confined and trapped by the iron shackles of his blood color. Even when he knew for a fact that he was destined to fail like the Signless before him, he refused to give up.

Such nobility in his part of the caste system was hard to find and even harder for him to fight his mounting flushed feelings for him.

“Grand…Highbaby?”

His aging heart thudded with surprise and he glanced down. The Summoner was awake and gazing at him with his dazed bronze eyes. Deep in his thoughts, he hadn’t realized he had been unconsciously stroking his spade’s face, though neither of them seemed to mind much.

He didn’t even mind the pet name; he was too relieved to see those eyes again and to hear his voice. 

“You’re awake,” he muttered the obvious in relief.

Rufioh’s expression turned into a slightly puzzled one at his words, as if he was not completely aware of what had happened; as quickly as he had been rendered unconscious, that was to be expected. “Of course I’m awake…Why wouldn’t I…?” he began before squinting his eyes and glancing around, gauging his surroundings in confusion, perhaps realizing he was missing something. “Wait…When did I get in your respite chamber? What happened?”

The young male went to start up but the indigo blood urged him to calm down. He didn’t blame him for his alarm. Such a situation, being knocked out cold with little warning and memory of it in battle, often meant being taken captive by the enemy. It was his training fighting to the surface despite being in the hands of a trusted quadrant. But it was also a reflex that was easily shoved back under in seconds, and he was back in bed shortly, still dazed nonetheless.

“Calm down, motherfucker. You were knocked out is motherfucking all. You’re safe though, don’t worry.”

Rufioh’s confusion returned at that and he glanced up at him. “Knocked out? What are you--?” He trailed off, as if just beginning to remember. He then gasped with some horrible realization. “The witch! Where is she? Please don’t tell me she’s--!”

“If I recall correctly, his Grandness had her released after he returned to his senses and took care of you,” the doctor cut in without warning from behind him before approaching the rebel leader’s bedside. “That is all fine and dandy, I suppose. But before you get any ideas, I strongly suggest staying in bed for the rest of your…Well…you know what I mean.”

The Grand Highblood hardly liked the sound of that. “Why? Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice slightly anxious with concern.

“With all the stress his body is going through, receiving such trauma was the last thing it needed. Besides, this is too strange of an event not to take every precaution; it just might kill him if we do not.”

A feeling of dread seemed to fill the room. Both of them had hoped that it wouldn’t get this bad. However, that would’ve taken some kind of miracle for this freak occurrence to go off without a hitch.

Not all of them were so worried, or rather so willing to follow the doctor’s orders. “Are you kidding me? I have to lie around for who knows how long until this thing is out of me? That’s bullshit,” the Summoner protested, obviously feeling better enough to put up a fight and even attempt to get out of bed.

The doctor sent a troubled look Grand Highblood’s way, probably hoping he would do something to keep his kismesis in bed. But he hesitated, torn between keeping him safe and miserable, and allowing him to keep the freedom he so loved. Accordingly, Rufioh managed to push past them while he was distracted, trying to walk out of the room in a strange act of defiance while trying to prove he would be just fine.

“Rufioh, what are you doing? Get back here.”

Even while carrying their unholy creation, it seemed Rufioh was impossible to confine for long; he was already practically out the door. And then the indigo blood noticed something bordering on alarming. The color was already fading from the rebel’s cheeks and there was the slightest hint of distress hidden in his features and body language.

That foolish wiggler, he was going to kill himself.

Sensing the inevitable, he went for him, and it seemed just in time. As he suspected, his kismesis began to stumble, as if suddenly light-headed, before his legs gave. He sighed with relief when he successful prevented further injury to his free-spirited lover, who he now supported safely in his arms.

“Goddamn it, Rufioh…”

There was a short silence.

“I’m sorry…” the Summoner muttered quietly. It sounded as though he had decided to give up trying to resist. “I’m such a fool. I guess…I’m just afraid, I suppose. I don’t want to accept the fact that I now have an even greater chance of dying now. Just…not like this…”

His confession tugged at his blood pump and he soon found himself shushing the younger troll, attempting to comfort him. “Shh…It’ll be okay. I’m here,” he whispered in assurance before kissing his hair, even though he wasn’t sure exactly how he could help. This was one of the few things he had no power over.

Carefully, he lifted his kismesis into his arms and carried him back to where he had been resting. The Grand Highblood was certain now that he would cooperate and even the doctor sighed in relief when his patient was back where he belonged and no longer expressed any thoughts of defying his orders. However, the said patient was still from being as glad as they and his expression was a gray cloud compared to his usually bright energy and disposition.

Knowing there was nothing further he could help the high blood and his kismesis with, the doctor took his leave silently and with one last supportive nod towards his superior. The Grand Highblood watched him go with some distress, not wanting to be left alone when he was truly at a loss for how to help his lover, emotionally or medically. He wanted nothing more than to bring back Summoner’s smiling face, but, for once, he had a feeling the jokes he was usually so fond of would be of little use as well as pretty much anything else.

Then they were alone. A heavy silence hung between them, pregnant with so many things that longed to be said and questions that begged to be answered. Fear and uncertainty thrived in them, but so did a new sort of affection, one that they had yet to bring to light and discuss.

After all, it was about time for a certain change.

“You know…” Summoner began, having previously been lost in his own thoughts. He then laughed, quiet and gruff before continuing. “Don’t think I haven’t been noticing your change in behavior, you old bleat beast. Did you really think you would get away with it so easily?”

At first, the Grand Highblood was stumped. “I don’t…What are you motherfucking talking about?” Though it was good to hear at least some kind of laugh from him, it would’ve been nicer if he known why he was laughing as well.

Then the brown blood was reaching up to brush his cheek with frail fingers and a tender expression, and he turned a faint and helpless indigo. “You’re flushed for me now, aren’t you?”

His blush intensified, but the other troll couldn’t have been more right. He didn’t know what was more flustering, that he had seen it so easily or that his feelings had shifted from black to red in the first place. However, seeing how weak and pale Summoner looked now, how sick he was becoming, he decided his pride could take one for the team for the sake of his kismesis, or was he something else now?

The indigo blood touched the other’s hand on his face. “As much of a proud old fool I am, I don’t think it would do me much good to lie,” he remarked with some humor, returning the soft look.

Summoner’s smile grew, if only just a little. “The feeling is mutual. It’s been too hard lately not to…”

“Too motherfucking hard not to be overwhelmed with pity…” the Grand Highblood continued for him, knowing all too well what he meant. “I started this motherfucking relationship looking for a kismesis, and I ended up with a matesprit and an apparent grub on the way.”

“Too bad,” the brown blood laughed and allowed him hand to return to his side. “You got us.”

Despite the warmth growing in his chest, the older troll’s brows stitched together with secret worry. Summoner seemed to be dozing off little by little. It was expected, but not quite mid-conversation. He decided it was probably for the best that he let him rest.

Sweetly, he leaned down and kissed his new matesprit’s mouth. “You look tired, rebel. You should get some sleep.”

Summoner nodded faintly in agreement, eyelids already starting to droop. “It’s a shame though…”

“What is?”

“That we realized our pity too late…”

His eyes then closed and his body relaxed, leaving Grand Highblood to wonder with a certain chill what he had meant.

 

The next couple of days that passed crawled by agonizingly slow and were wrought with dread. Every day, Summoner seemed to grow weaker and weaker as their cursed spawn developed within his body. The Grand Highblood almost would’ve swore it was feeding on his life and energy, but also scolded himself for thinking so cruelly of something they had inadvertently created together. It was hard not to though, when it was killing his lover.

Yes, by now, he was just about certain his matesprit was dying. And he was helpless to do anything but watch and hold his hand while he slept, which he now did most of the time in his bedridden condition. And there were times while he sat at his bedside that he could hardly stop himself from giving a wrathful side glance towards Summoner’s enlarged abdomen.

When it really came down to it, he just wanted this nightmare to be over. He wanted to see Summoner healthy and happy again, to see him flying once more with his brown eyes bright. But he had a feeling he would never get his wish, even when it came his simple desire to spend more than a few good minutes with him while he was awake.

He was just too weak, too sick, and it slowly broke the indigo blood’s heart.

Nonetheless, the subjugglator did what he could to try to maintain a strong, composed front when it came to handling his Imperial responsibilities, but he could tell some of his keener guests could sense the lack of his trademark mirthfulness. They, however, mentioned nothing and, for that, he was grateful.

Their whole situation was turning into one big disaster, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

Then it happened…

 

“Do you…think there is any way you…can let my troops know what is going on?”

The Grand Highblood gazed down at his matesprit’s pale gray face and dimmed eyes and hardly had the heart to answer. He trusted none of his followers not to cause unnecessary trouble nor did he want to leave Summoner’s side. And, grimier still, he doubted they would make it in time if summoned to his fortress.

In time for what, he wasn’t sure. Nothing was certain anymore.

“I want to be…able to see them one last time…if this is to be my undoing…”

The indigo blood hesitated to answer, swallowing thickly. “…I…don’t think it’s a motherfucking good idea…for them to see you like this…”

His matesprit’s eyes dropped in discouragement. “Oh…You’re…you’re probably right…”

Gently, the subjugglator tilted his chin to meet his gaze again. “Look at me, Rufioh…” he commanded, using his wiggler-hood name to intensify the worth behind his words. “You are going to be motherfucking fine, do you hear me? You are the strongest low blooded warrior I have ever seen, and you are not going to let a grub best you.”

He moved his hand to his cheek and stroked it lovely, studying his face as he did so and analyzing his expression. He noticed hope spark back into the brown blood’s eyes, wet hope, but fear of the unknown and uncertain still lingered. Though, he was pretty sure he could see the very same in his own.

“If you say so…” was not the answer he was hoping for.

He growled low in his throat and went for the other troll’s mouth. He growled again, albeit playfully this time. “I know so.”

Summoner chuckled and silently continued their affection. Having no protest, the high blood happily complied, keeping his kisses soft and easy, something so foreign to him but so important for his matesprit’s current well-being. At this point, he was ready to coddle him like a wiggler just to insure he wouldn’t leave him, not like he feared he would.

Suddenly, Summoner jolted, hands shooting up to grasp hard at his shoulders with a gasp. The Grand Highblood jumped and looked frantically for any sign of what was wrong. He found his expression twisted with pain.

“Are you alright? Rufioh! What is it? Rufioh…!”

Rufioh was unable answer, instead falling back onto the bed, writhing with an unknown agony and clutching at the sheets desperately. He gasped for breath, but could not seem to get enough. Finally, he managed to choke out something.

“I think…I think it’s here…”

“Oh fuck…”

His heart racing virtually in his throat, Grand Highblood whipped his head around and yelled for help. He was relieved to hear a response right away and returned to comforting his matesprit as much as he could with quiet, pleading words. Finally, the doctors arrived, in a great hurry, and began to tend to their distressed patient.

To his surprise, they didn’t hesitate to shoo and even shove him from the room, despite his stature and authority. At the moment, such things didn’t matter. However, as the door slammed in his face, he realized once again he was helpless and could do nothing now but wait.

Numbly, he turned and wandered away to wait, realizing how little he wanted to hear Summoner’s cries of pain, even if they would be the last of him he would ever hear. 

 

What felt like hours ticked by before anyone came to retrieve him. In his frustrated anxiety, the Grand Highblood had found a secluded wall and left a good sized crack before collapsing in a despair that he found he could no longer hold back. When he heard the other troll approach, he only looked up with so much interest, fearing the worse.

“High Blood…”

“What? What the motherfuck is it?”

The Physician held out his hand. “Please come with me.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, but soon rose hesitantly on his own. He knew he was acting very much unlike his blood color and rank, but he didn’t care. Nothing matter to him at the moment except whether or not the Summoner had survived the ordeal.

The walk back to the chamber was silent and tense. He didn’t know why he wasn’t just told outright what had occurred, but he supposed it was best if he saw for himself first. He wondered what to do if the grub had indeed took its bearer’s life. Would he cull it for its crime or would he just send it to the caverns to start its life, knowing that it was both of theirs and had not chosen to be born like this?

The Grand Highblood chuckled grimly to himself. He was already prepared for the worst, it seemed. He hated it.

Lost in his thoughts, he was jolted back to reality at the sound of the door being opened. He stopped short and glanced up quickly in response, wide-eyed and bewildered. Humbly, the doctor stood aside to let him enter first, which he did slowly after few seconds’ hesitation. He wandered inside cautiously, not knowing what to expect.

Immediately, the indigo blood’s eyes fell on Summoner and he didn’t like what he saw. The brown blood wasn’t moving and his eyes were closed, but he swore he could still see his chest moving ever so slightly. That was enough to give him hope.

He stepped further into the room and straight to his bedside.

Gently, he brushed his cheek. “Rufioh?”

The subjugglator received no response and a small ball of terror built in his chest. Instantly, he tried to reject such a scenario and turned to the nearest doctor for an explanation. He received another surprise, seeing a reddish form in one of their arms, and it took his mind off of his fury for the time being.

Noticing his attention, the doctor holding the small creature turned to him. “The grub is in surprisingly good health for such an odd birth. It’s a male, my lord.”

Beyond curious, the Grand Highblood carefully took the grub, which was soon blinking up at him with his large, innocent eyes. He scrutinized it, trying not to think too much of how much pain his lover had gone through to bring it into this world. It was…cute, he guessed, its horns a pleasant mixture between his and the Summoner’s. And after all they went through, it would’ve been a virtual waste to kill him; he was their offspring after all, no matter which way he looked at it, their furthering of their species.

“…He shall live…” he announced, with some annoyance towards the grub after previously being so determined to despise it.

The doctors sighed with relief.

“But what about the Summoner? Will _he_ motherfucking live?”

Everyone’s attention reverted back to the motionless rebel leader.

“It’s hard to say…” began the doctor who had given him the grub. “The whole ordeal has left him utterly exhausted and his body has been through an awful lot, even for a troll.”

“Well?” The Grand Highblood urged, just wanting a straight answer.

The troll stammered, obviously not certain but eager to not invoke his wrath, “W-well…you see…It depends on him…if he lives...if he can pull through or not. He’s on thin ice right now, I’ll admit, virtually between life and death, but he’s alive, for now at least.”

The indigo blood decided he would have to be satisfied with that.

“All we can do now is wait, High Blood…”

At least he had gotten a lot of practice lately. And so, he found the chair that had been discarded in the panic and returned it to its rightful spot at the Summoner’s bedside. Taking their cue, the doctors left him to his matesprit and grub, much to his relief.

“I’m going to get motherfucking old waiting on you, Rufioh…”

But he’d wait forever for him if he had to.

“Ow! Motherfucker!”

And as sure as he was now that the grub was definitely a chip off the old block, he was sure he was going to keep his fingers away from his mouth while waiting.

 

It was a motherfucking miracle.

The Grand Higblood stood out on his balcony watching with a mixture of awe and joy something he never thought he would see again. Swooping and wheeling this way and that, his matesprit flew once again. But he wasn’t alone.

With great care, the Summoner gave their grub a first class tour of the sky and of the wonders of flight. Seemingly a natural like his genetic donor, the red blood trilled and waved his little legs up in delight. Though, before long, the brown blood decided it was time for a break, still weak from his ordeal to fly for too long yet, and landed before the Grand Highblood.

He was puzzled at once. “Hey, Grand Highbaby…are you alright?”

Abruptly, he was yanked into a passionate kiss as the grub squealed happily.

He was more than alright. He had never been more mirthful. Never had he thought a low blood would reteach him the ways of miracles and yet, single-handedly, Summoner had.

In fact, he was _his_ miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, it’s finally finished. It only took over a year. It’s eight in the morning right now, almost nine. I stayed up all night finishing it, so please let me know if there is any mistakes.
> 
> This is supposed to be a doomed ancestral timeline. There are two outcomes and both end up dooming the timeline, and it both has to do with what they do with the grub.
> 
> One: They send the grub to the breeding caverns and Summoner tries to continue with his rebellion.  
> Outcome: He is too weakened by his ordeal and dies in battle before he can lead a rebellion successful enough to convince the Empress to banish the adult trolls. The High Bloods continue to reign.
> 
> Two: Summoner and Grand Highblood keep the grub, and Grand Highblood overthrows the Empress himself for the sake of the happiness of his freak family.  
> Outcome: It doesn’t last. The Summoner is assassinated and the Grand Highblood is overthrown in turn. The High Bloods regain control and the rebellion is back to square one.
> 
> But guess what? The grub has a name: Daniel. I know, I know. Not very troll like, but this isn’t a 110% serious story. This was dedicated to Danni, because she inspired me to write this and it in turn became for her, so I named the grub after a male version of her name since my watchers on dA wanted a male grub.
> 
> I hope this was worth the wait. I had major writer’s block when it came to the last part, so I had no choice but to skip to the end because I couldn’t think of how to write Rufioh waking up without ruining what I wanted to have or creating more unnecessary conflicts.


End file.
